Menu

i was just bony hands as cold as a winter pole you held a warm stone out new flowing blood to hold oh what a contrast you were to the brutes in the halls my timid young fingers held a decent animal.

over the ramparts you tossed the scent of your skin and some foreign flowers tied to a brick sweet as a song the years have seemed short but the days were long.

cool of a temperate breeze from dark skies to wet gr*ss we fell in a field it seems now a thousand summers p*ssed when our kite lines first crossed we tied them into knots and to finally fly apart we had to cut them off.

since then it’s been a book you read in reverse so you understand less as the pages turn or a movie so cr*ss and awkwardly cast that even i could be the star.

i don’t look back much as a rule and all this way before murder was cool but your memory is here and i’d like it to stay warm light on a winter’s day.

over the ramparts you tossed the scent of your skin and some foreign flowers tied to a brick sweet as a song the years have seemed short but the days go slowly by two loose kites falling from the sky drawn to the ground and an end to flight.